Under The Skin.

Every once in a while, I catch a film that actually blows me away. 

Last night I watched Under The Skin by Jonathan Glazer.  Now, I love Jonathan Glazer and have long admired his work, in particular his music videos for various bands throughout the 1990's. 

This film couldn't have been made by anyone else.  It was quintessentially Glazer. 

Odd, strange, twisting, thought provoking and mysterious but with a cinematic detail and artistry that is rarely seen in modern mainstream cinema.

There was a brilliant use of metaphor running parallel to a beautiful use of colour and symbolism which made you well aware you were watching a moving artwork rather than just a film.  The overall theme and message which ran throughout was huge in both scope, relevance and impact.

Brilliant.  Faith restored in film for another few months. :)

Skins.

I saw a facebook post recently which was for some charity event- Children In Need if I remember rightly, where some high profile women had gone "Bare Faced" for some publicity shots.  The fact that most of these women were models anyway - with naturally good skin, bone structure etc aside, I got the point which (although not executed brilliantly) was still a fair enough effort at raising the issue of women's self esteem.

 

It got me thinking. 

 

Over the years, some of which may be detailed in this blog from earlier times, I have battled with low self esteem.  Mostly from my physical appearance as I am highly confident in my beliefs, opinions and actions for the most part- some would say perhaps too confident! 

Being so petite (skinny, as fatter people prefer to call it) and pale, I don't fit in the to the feminine hourglass, curvy figure.  I spent a huge portion of my formative years feeling completely inadequate physically, mostly due to the eagerness of other people to point out that I was "too thin".  I've been called ugly, skinny, been in the company of fat people who just love to call you scrawny and put you down, and we all know those awful people who love taking bad photographs of others because it makes them feel better about themselves.  You don't have experience of self harm without having some sort of disrespect for yourself and obviously I have the scars to prove it. Bad cycle. 

Whilst I'm able now to put a lot of these things down to other people being shits, it's all still left it's mark and I continue to have issues with aspects of my figure and my body.  It's not just my skinny, bony, pale body and lack of boobs either; I've spent many years staring at my face in the mirror and hating my nose and ears and the general shape of my tiny head.  It's why I hate photographs of myself. 

 

This brings me to the main point of my post.  Whilst I probably feel the most comfortable I have about my body (which is still probably poor compared to the average woman) I, like most of my female peers, wouldn't even dream of leaving the house without make up.  Never.  It just won't happen.  In fact I can even remember my worst fear coming true one day when I got up to find that I had run out of eye-liner.  The prospect of going into public WITHOUT eye-liner on in order to buy some, was too horrific, and I had to send N out to get a new one before I could leave the house. 

 

It's awful really.  Its my face, where so much of my personality comes out and is presented.  I am very confident in my beliefs, my opinions, my morals, and my passions and they all come out through my face, my mouth, my eyes, my expressions.  However to sit in front of a mirror and look at my face with make up on is a highly uncomfortable experience for me.  Looking at it WITHOUT make up- even more so. 

 

The women who have posed without make up for those publicity shots however, have inspired me through the comfort of my blog, my small, tiny window to the world, to do the same. 

 

So, feeling brave, here I am.  With no make up.  No eyeliner, no blusher.  Nothing.  I think I was fortunate that the soft lighting has bleached out the dark eye circles and patchy skin... but still, this is me- as naked as my face can get.

 



  

 

Scary stuff. 

Sound of not-so-silence.

At the risk of revealing that I've achieved NONE of my tasks today- I'm going to share one of my many quirks with you.

For years, more so the last ten years, I've had this issue with certain sounds.  It all started with my Grandad.  My Grandad, probably no different to most older folk, is a loud eater.  I've been seeing my Grandparents and family in the city of Nottingham since I was a kid, and our traditional day would be spent visiting the rellies for Sunday dinner and then the other set of Granparents for tea.  (Yes that's DINNER and TEA. As it should be).  My Grandma would prepare us a small buffet tea of sandwiches, salad and rolls for tea and for reasons unknown, my Grandad would always wait until the rest of us had finished eating before selecting his food and starting his own.  I began to dread this moment.  Then it would start- the slow, inevitable chomp chomp munch squelch of chewing. On and on it went... having to endure every morsal of food sometimes with the addition of a slop and a churn... until it was all gone.  Each sound enraged me.  I would get so uncomfortable I would have to move or eat something myself just to drown out the sound.  Even weirder, no one else seemed to notice.  Although fleeting, the rage was there, I'd physically grit my teeth or clench my jaw with annoyance. 

This has got predominantly worse over the years to the stage where if I can hear pretty much anyone chewing or chomping I feel uncomfortable.  I don't usually act on it, other than the odd comment now and then. 

Regular readers will already know that I hate snoring but my dislike of hearing these kind of sounds doesn't stop there - I dislike hearing people breathing- the whistle nose or worse still- a combination of whistle nose, chomping and heavy nose breathing at the same time.  Hell.  Pure, utter hell.  Oh god.

Well, I'd never really linked all these together, putting it down to my hyper sensitive body- but it turns out this whole thing is a recognised condition!!!!

*This New York Times article* describes my "condition" precisely and calls it Misophonia! Who knew that this was a recognised disorder of the brain!? Woohoo! Another one to add to my collection.  Hehe, I jest, Obviously. 

Fuck You- from a Blonde.

Forgive me a rant.  It won't take long.

The next man OR woman who assumes I am...

a). stupid
b). horny
c). slutty

... because of my fucking hair colour may well get stabbed in the face.

My hair is blonde.  Get the fuck over it.  Judging by the complete fuck-wits I've had the displeasure of meeting who have made any of the above assumptions, should I perhaps be reforming my opinions of brunette haired people as:
a). fucking thick as pig shit
b). lame
c). sexist
and d). have clearly been raised watching far too much pornography.????

Er... yeah maybe not. 

Yet again I guess the media doesn't help with this particular issue- fuelling it with ridiculous polls suggesting that most men and women prefer brunettes... hmm could that be because of a general, wide sweeping idea that blonde women are associated with pornography and sex by.... hmm, the media?!?!?.  No shit sherlocks.  I would wager I am 3000% more intelligent than any twat who is lame enough to even answer such a fucking stupid, pointless poll.

Get real you absolute fucking morons. 

That is all. 

:-)

Little Muscles.

Yesterday I went for my first proper gym session.  I didn't want to over do it so I took things relatively gently for my first evening, especially considering I've barely done any exercise for nearly a year!

I started with 15 minutes on the exercise bike covering a steadily paced 6km.  I then got introduced to some of the weights machines and did some work on arms and shoulders, but it was mainly walking round testing out different machines.  I managed a measly 25 sit-ups after using the stomach crunchy machine which BURNED... and then I went back to some cycling for 20 minutes this time working lower legs instead of upper.  I finished up with some triceps work but my right shoulder started to really hurt as it's extremely weak.  I also got very hungry very quickly and with my history of dodgy blood sugar issues and fainting bouts, I decided I should go and rehydrate.  I was craving bread/crackers and ice cream so I had some when I got back.  Probably not the best thing to do after a work out but what my body wants- it gets!

I feel good about it.  It's going to be good for me. :-)

The Balancing Act of Being Female; Or, Why We Have So Many Clothes

I just read the above article.

It's an interesting albeit brief article on the labelling of women based on their clothing choices.  It's a sad fact that women label women in this way just as much as men do.  Interestingly men's clothing choices matter very little... in fact I can't remember many conversations around mens clothing choices reflecting their personalities and although I can see how a personality may be relfected in a mans clothing choices, they're not routinely labelled in the same way.  Men seldom are labelled. 

The image in the article, as usual, sums it all up a thousand times quicker and with more clarity than words do. 

Well done to the young student addressing these issues. 

From a real woman.

"Real women have curves"

I resent this phrase.

The many years of using too-thin models on catwalks and the linking up of eating disorders with images of thin women in the media, has given birth to an ugly counter-phenomenon. I'm not going to deny that media has a hugely negative impact on women's esteem... but I find this particular line of defence disturbing. Women have turned on each other, using a "them and us" mindset which only serves to further alienate and lower esteem.

We should be pushing for real beauty, as opposed to plastics, airbrushing and photo-editing; We should be pushing for acceptance of spots, freckles, wrinkles, scars- all those things that makes human skin human; Pushing for feeling healthy and happy in your skin. THIS phrase, this "Real Women" assault, has been coined by full figured ladies tired of being made to feel ugly by the use of slim women in media- and they've fought back in the stereotypically bitchy way some women can resort to; by putting someone else down. It's cliched, it's dull and it's tiresome.

I am slim. I have always been small. Contrary to popular belief, I struggle to get clothes to fit and there are clothes I would love to wear but can't or wouldn't feel comfortable in. I don't tend to put on much weight but I am as susceptible to stretch marks and cellulite as the next woman. I have small boobs (highly unfashionable), very fair skin which does not tan (and neither do I feel the need to do so), thin hair, freckles, moles and scars. I have just as many issues with my body as the next woman- if not more. I have struggled accepting how I look and am prone to bouts of intense insecurity about my body; I've struggled to feel any degree of comfort in my skin. I am often asked if I eat properly, or if I specifically try to maintain my low weight... and people have no qualms about making comments about my physique which they wouldn't dream of doing to a fuller sized person. Something about being naturally slim seems to give the rest of the world an open invitation to comment on your size, as if for some reason, I won't mind. Well why would I, seeing as by today's standards, I am not a real woman.

I would love to ask those who feel the need to enquire about my clothing size, whether they would feel the need to ask it of a larger sized woman. I would also love to know how people calling me skinny as if it's a compliment, would feel if I suddenly felt the urge to conjure up a nickname based purely on the the size of their waistband.

This is the problem with this phrase.

It might make you fat ladies (not nice is it, being labelled) feel better about yourselves, but it's doing nothing for the fight against the media. The media has not changed; 99% of imagery we see in advertising is edited and airbrushed and we're still being conditioned to accept it.

It's doing nothing to fight against eating disorders because these disorders are always going to exist, exacerbated wherever there are attacks on women's esteem; as long as women are to be judged by what they look like and told they are not good enough.

It's doing nothing to challenge perceptions or promote happiness, esteem and acceptance for ALL women- quite the opposite in fact; it's divisive, nasty and a cheap shot. Whatever the intention was- it's misguided and poorly judged.


What is this even based on!? Are these ladies making a lame attempt at harking back to the old Renaissance paintings where big, pale, wobbly thighs were a thing of beauty- well fair enough- but a small bust and eating as much as you could to prove your wealth was fashionable then too. The truth is that Real Women come in all shapes and sizes, colours, heights and widths.

I may be slim. I may not conform to the stereotypical "beauty". But I AM a real woman. I am far more than my clothing size and will continue to feel saddened and disgusted by the promotion of the "real women" campaigns. Such a great opportunity lost and wasted, proving that women's self esteem will always be abused and contorted.

Slink Inked.

So last Monday, I paid someone some of my hard earned squids to stick an inky needle in my back. Loads. It hurt at times but I'm really pleased with the result. I was even commended on my bravery by two of the tatooists... especially for a first timer like me, but credit has to be given to my good friend Mark for coming with me for support and talking to me for an hour to keep my mind off things.



It's healing nicely and I have to go back in 3 weeks to have a check up and a touch up if required. Woop.

Distortion.

The Pirate Investigation.

So I think I want to be a Pirate.

Lets look at the evidence:









Exhibit A. A selection of my clothes... ALL containing skull and cross bones.












Exhibit B. The pair of shoes I just bought... sporting a Pirate symbol.














Exhibit C. *dribble*











Exhibit D. A screen shot of my current desktop complete with a Pirate Hat adorned Mr Boyd.


and lastly, Exhibit E...













Pirate Slink... fancy dress party 2005 complete with sword, stripey socks, eye patch and bandana.

I don't know where this obsession has come from, neither do I know if you can call it an obsession if I haven't been completely aware of it. However, it's not just me- this phenomenon has seemingly spread to my younger sister Vix (see below), who also informed me today she was has been invited to a Pirate Party!














This all prompted me to ask the question: Where has this Pirate obsession come from?

I have delved deep into my childhood to discover the answers, and here are my findings: